


run, baby, run

by donutsandcoffee



Series: origin/outcome [1]
Category: Bourne Legacy (2012), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutsandcoffee/pseuds/donutsandcoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Clint.</i> The name rolls off Phil's tongue in a way it never quite does on others', and <i>god</i> Aaron misses him.</p><p>No, wait, backtrack. <i>Clint</i> would have mised the man. Aaron, though, doesn't even know this stranger.</p><p>(Or, the one where Clint Barton runs away from SHIELD, Aaron Cross is born in Outcome, Eric Byer follows him, and Phil just wants everyone to hug and go home. Even if that takes a couple of gunshots.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	run, baby, run

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Беги, детка, беги!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2031525) by [Andrew_Clean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andrew_Clean/pseuds/Andrew_Clean)



> Just something I couldn't stop thinking about ever since I watched the movie. Set after both Avengers and Bourne Legacy.

 

There is only one gossip that has been going around SHIELD for more than a decade and has spawned its own betting pool and Arthurian legend-like stories: that Phil Coulson is a robot. Clint used to laugh at the mere ridiculousness of it, or pretend that he knew the truth but not allowed to disclose it, depending on whether he was talking to long-time agents or new recruits, respectively.

Now, all things considered, he admits that the claim has its merits.

"The last time I heard about you, you were dead," is the first thing Clint-- _Aaron_ \--says. He keeps his gun trained on the man and, in a detached sort of way, wishes he has his bow and arrows with him.

The man in question, Phil Coulson himself, is infuriatingly inscrutable. The man doesn't seem to age a day ever since Aaron last saw him as Clint three years ago (hence, the Coulson-is-a-robot hypothesis; whoever came up with this must have secretly been a genius), his suits impeccable as always, standing in the middle of the narrow alleyway and very, very much _alive_.

Clint would have thrown his gun and punched the wall in confusion and frustration, but Aaron waits.

Phil--very much alive, very much breathing Phil--sighs. "He has a bad influence on you."

"Who, Eric?" Aaron snaps, gritting his teeth in frustration. "I'm sorry, I don't remember him faking his death and making me think that I was responsible for it. Oh, wait, my mistake; that was _you_."

Other people would have missed it, but Aaron catches the way the corner of Phil's right eye twitch, the Phil-equivalent of flinching.

Another sigh escapes Phil's lips. "What happened to you, Clint?"

 _Clint._ The name rolls off Phil's tongue in a way it never quite does on others', and _god_ Aaron misses him.

(no, wait, backtrack. _Clint_ would have mised the man. Aaron, though, doesn't even know this stranger.)

"The name's Aaron," he snarls. "And the past couple of years have been pretty uneventful, I have to say. Same old government agencies, same old assassination shit. A couple gunshots, a couple chromosome alterations, the usual."

"Chromosome alterations?"

"You _died_ , Phil," Aaron says, exasperated. So much for treating Phil like a stranger. "You died and you came back to life after three fucking years. At least the things that happened to me don't defy the laws of biology."

"I," Phil says, then stops.

Aaron scoffs, but the laugh doesn't reach his eyes. "What do you want?"

There's a pause as Phil raises his hands in surrender. "Home," he says, sounding really, really _tired_ , "I want us to go home."

"Don't have one anymore," Aaron says. Not when it means he would be under the gaze of everyone who has a hole in their chest and hates him for everything he didn't do. People who would shoot him in the head given the opportunity. "In case you forgot, I'm on the run right now." _From Eric_ , he doesn't say, but he's quite sure Phil already knows.

"Clint," Phil tries.

" _Aaron_ ," he says out of instinct.

"Aaron," Phil accedes, "come with me."

"No," he says, and there's finality in that word that hangs in the space between them.

There's a loud silence, and Aaron entertains the idea that maybe, _maybe_ Phil is actually letting him go; but the thoughts quickly disappear as Phil pulls both his guns from their holsters at record speed and _shoots_ , both bullets only missing the sides of Aaron's neck by a hair.

"Well, I guess I have to make you, then," Phil says and shoots again--

Aaron jumps and rolls to his side as he shoots at the ground near Phil's feet, and that _bastard_ doesn't even feel threatened enough to dodge; instead, Phil sidesteps the lines of shots calmly and fires another shot.

His right thigh suddenly feels like it's on fire, but Aaron ignores it. He turns to his side, grabs the nearest window pane and pulls his body up.

He can feel Phil's surprised eyes on his back and can't help smiling--Clint loves high spaces, but Aaron is the one who can climb almost barren walls in a matter of seconds. He throws himself up further to grab on a higher window pane, sometimes the one on the other side of the narrow alleyway, dodging bullets by calculating its distance and angle from the sounds of gunshots alone. Wash, rinse, repeat. Before he knows it, he has reached the top of the apartment, and he can hear Phil curse from the ground.

Aaron looks at the bullet wound on his thigh and thinks about Eric, Eric who wants to bring him down together with the project, and seriously, what's with him and former SHIELD handlers who are hell-bent on shooting him?

"Need some lift, sir?" He can't help calling out. It's not everyday you can surprise and run away from Phil Coulson, and _hell_ if he's not going to enjoy it. "Because I can probably give you one. Going to be quite difficult though, with this bullet wound from you and all."

"That, or the wounds on your right arm?"

Aaron freezes. He never thought Phil would notice. "That one's from Eric, sir. Is this jealousy I see?"

"I wonder what makes all your former handlers so hell-bent on shooting you, Barton," Phil says, ignoring his last comment, and fuck, that man can still read his mind, can't he?

"Not all of them, sir," he says instead, and gives Phil a smile that isn't Aaron's, one that is dangerously close to Clint's. "Just the ones I fucked."

And before Aaron can see or hear Phil's reaction, he runs away, jumping across the rooftops without looking back. Never looking back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from We The King's Check Yes Juliet


End file.
